A Swordsman's Shame
by Robin Roronoa
Summary: Marks on the back are a swordsman's shame, he knows this time is different though. These aren't the marks of a battle he's lost. Zorobin romance, slight angst.


He was damaged, his body and soul a tattered mess of his past wounds. He wore the marks proudly as signs he had survived, that he had beaten whatever life had thrown onto the path that led to becoming the world's greatest swordsman. Perhaps, that why his instincts about her were so clear. He recognized the same brokenness he had fought to destroy within himself behind her painted-on smile and icy blue eyes. She had a past full of death, some at her own hands, but most of it was the ones out of her reach, the ones she could never forget. The lives she couldn't save lingered in her tortured mind, weighing on such a guilt-ridden conscience that it would have broken a lesser human as opposed to the ones she'd taken. He knew she was as broken as he was after the walls she had built up to protect her heart had finally fallen that day on the tower. The day she had finally let them in, finally trusted they wouldn't leave her. They were the same, both carrying a darkness that those closest to them didn't, and probably couldn't. Killers among a group of innocents, and both ready to be consumed by their darkness rather than lose the ones they cared for. He wanted her though, wanted the light he had seen as she begged them to let her die to avoid going through the pain of being abandoned by those she had come to love. He wanted to protect the last shred of innocence that she had found among the ragtag bunch of pirates that had adopted both of them in. He wanted her.

She was reluctant though, seeing only the destruction she had wrought as she fought to survive day after day. Her demons lingered even after they had saved her, part of him feared they always would. The rest of him made a promise that he would defeat them though. He had always liked challenges and he wouldn't let go of her for something so ridiculous. He would show her what he already recognized. They had walked very similar paths, tasted the same bitterness the world had forced them to swallow as they worked to achieve their respective goals. She wasn't some monster that could corrupted his purity. No, he was already far past that point long before he met her. He thought they could work their way back towards humanity, together. Seemed suiting for two demons.

He hated how desperately he wanted this, how easy he saw it could be if she would only listen to him. But it was easy to tell in the initial phrase of their new found relationship that she was a scared. Her hands were always hesitant, not daring to touch him too long for fear of tainting him with the darkness she had carried for so long. Her hands had snapped necks, cut off air supplies, and slit throats. They weren't instruments of tenderness; incapable of the comforting touches of a lover in her eyes. Every contact he could feel the swarm of emotions swirling in her as she fought to pull away, to stop herself. He pushed her though, begging her to come closer to him as she told herself to pull away for his own good. He had to make her see that she wouldn't consume him. They weren't blades dueling against each other, inevitably clashing until one eventually gave out under the pressure and strain from the constant exposure to the other. No, they were more a single sword, a blade and its sheath. Forever lacking on their own without their perfectly designed matching piece. A pair that shouldn't exist one without the other. A bare blade dulls and rusts without it's cover to protect it while a sheath without a blade has little purpose to anyone. It can never fit another and is of little value or consequence on it's own.

The day came that he finally won. Her reluctance finally faded as he held her closer, kissed her more fervently, repeated the words he had been saying for months trying to assuage her her ever-present doubts. His lips trailed over her neck, up to her moist cheeks and soft jawline before finally meeting her eager lips. Her nails raked down his back as she was, for once, pulling him closer to her burning body. He felt the delicious sting on his tanned skin as she dragged them down, thin lines forming on the hard planes of his back.

Marks on the back were a swordsman's shame. He had lived his life knowing this to be true. Every battle he vowed to never show an enemy his back, to never let them catch him off-guard. The thin scars that her nails traced on the unmarred skin weren't a sign of his failure though. Every mark was proof that he had finally broken through the last barriers she had fought to maintain between them for some twisted reason, signs that he had won.

He wore all of his scars proudly, more than happy to show what he had overcome. These were no different. Marks on the back were a swordsman's shame, he supposed that was still true when facing an enemy as opposed to the woman you loved. These wouldn't be his shame, something he had to work harder and harder to destroy. No, he would remember them fondly after they had faded. A reminder of when Nico Robin, The Woman who Bears Darkness, could finally enjoy the light with him by her side.

 **A/N:** Just a little drabble while I'm trying to finish up some Family Time chapters. :)


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